


Man Meets Assassin

by ZaraHunter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Physical Threat, Planning a Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5779996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaraHunter/pseuds/ZaraHunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrion's plans for drinking himself under the table will have to wait, there's murder afoot .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Meets Assassin

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings at end.

 

Tyrion was walking back to his chambers after a rather successful meeting with the Kalisi, and currently planning for a date between himself and a twenty year old bottle of Dornish wine when he felt the cold steel of a knife against his back.

"A man is brave to be walking alone at night, many who venture into the night do not return." The tone of the voice was flatly conversational and surprisingly light, she spoke in accented Westerosi with a distinct hint of the Braavos tongue. The unknown assailant offered no threat or challenge to him. Menial talk was an unexpected occurrence when being held at sword point, but still he had to reply.

"It is in my experience, stranger whom I hope is not my killer, that those who would go missing in the dark would still do so, even if they were guarded by the strongest knights in the kingdom. And as such my concerns are more immediately fixed on my currently dangerous situation, over the nameless no ones who are lost to us. So, I ask, what do you want?" Tyrion's nerves were not yet drowned in drink and he tried his best not show how much he really really did value his own life, praying that the fast words that had kept him alive so far would continue to do so.

"A girl once swore that a man would die by her hand for his crimes, but has since found a use in his prolonged existence. A dwarf must choose another to offer to the gods in his stead. Give the girls a name and she will do the rest." The chilling, unfeeling words ran shivers up the Imp's spine, the blade pressed closer into his flesh and he did not doubt that if she had still wanted him dead, he would be. Tyrion was willing to give her someone else to hunt if he could live, but still, when making deals during hold-ups with murderers it payed to be cautious. No one simply killed people they were told to, especially when they were in fact at her mercy, not for a price at least.

There was always a debt to be payed in the end, and someone had to foot the bill. Mentally snorting over his own family's unfortunate choice of motto he tries to guess what this woman's end game is. Her very presence oozed murderous intent and her words were still with the essence of nothingness, frankly she creeped Tyrion out and the sooner he could get out of this situation. While wary of his vulnerable position as prisoner and withholding the temptation to turn and _see_ , he questioned.

"What do you want in exchange? Where's the catch in all of this trickery?" His brain was ticking overtime to try and think of a way to free himself, and escape but nothing was coming to him. There were no guards, no secret passages and no flaming dragon to help him. Just a dwarf, a girl, an ally and a knife. Wonderful, it was a particularly dingy ally too.

"A girl wishes for nothing except a name, one with stains against their soul, in order to fulfil pledges made long ago." So she wanted a criminal to die in his place, he could think of several names of the top of his head whose deaths would greatly beneficial to both himself and the Queen. But this was a game which would have consequences and the decision could not be rus- "A man must decide with haste or his own life my be put at risk. You are not indispensable, remember that."

These words were said like all the others, with no inflection aside from the vague tint of the free cities. It was almost as if there was no one taking to... Tyrion choked in fear as ice flooded through his veins, pure dread now the driving force as he spoke the first name that came into his head.

"Wreryan Hyseares. The slave master." He manages to get the words out amidst the cloying terror in his throat, breath rasping in anticipation of his possibly horrific murder. The attacker's weapon made no move from his back and he dared not move when there was no response fro behind him. "Oh, Gods..." He was going to be sick.

"Valar morgules." Came the soft return, and then the knife disappeared and she was gone. Relief flooded him and after retching into the nearby gutter he made his way back to Daenerys. The Mother of Dragons would certainly wish to hear about the assassin, no, the Faceless Man that would shortly be ending her enemy for her. He wasn't drunk enough for this.

 

Two days later Tyrion received a missive from one of Valys' spys, the most powerful slave trader in all of the East was dead. Having dies froma heart failure brought on by alcohol poisoning in his sleep. The dwarf wondered if this was ironic with the way he had been downing flagons of ale since the incident. He shuddered and resolved to ask the Spider if any assassins had been sighted in Essos recently. He hoped not.           

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of vomiting.
> 
> Mild threat of death ( to Tyrion ).
> 
> Lots of references to alcohol ( again see Tyrion ).


End file.
